Before
by cornergoddess
Summary: A description of the time House was in the hospital with the infarction. Contains some whump I think? Not 100% sure what that is. Pain/hurt/comfort. Hilson. Some strong language.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hi! So I just want to start by saying this is my first time ever writing fan fiction. Any constructive criticism on any aspect of the story is greatly appreciated! This story is set in infarction era and fills in a lot of the details I feel were missed. It's also mostly House/Wilson but not in a romantic way. Enjoy!**

**P.S.- How often should I upload? I have around 11 chapters of this already written. Daily? Weekly? **

1

"Sir. Sir, lie still."

He refused. He refused to do much of what anyone told him to do, but Wilson thought maybe this would be an exception since whenever his patients ignore his instructions, he called them stupid, or worse. But then again, when has House ever done anything anyone told him to do?

"You're going to have to lie down. It's not safe."

Still he sat, holding his leg. Finally, he spoke.

"Just...get off me...don't touch me. Just drive me to the hospital like you're supposed to. That's your job."

The paramedic sighed, seemingly giving up.

"Sorry about him…" Wilson offered, "He can be a bit of an ass."

"What happened?" the paramedic asked.

"Excuse me. Are you a doctor? I didn't think so. Shut up."

"House...just…" Wilson gave up. There was no point in arguing with him. He turned back to the paramedic. "We were golfing. He said his leg hurt about halfway through and that he thought he may have pulled a muscle, but it just kept getting worse throughout the round until he sorta just...fell over."

"I didn't fall over. I sat down on a bench."

"No, you fell and the bench caught you. Or, rather, I caught you and set you on the bench then called 911."

"Yup, you're a hero. Now stop telling the paramedic who's probably about 18 all my business."

"I'm 21…" the paramedic mumbled.

"And I'm 42. Now stop trying to be my doctor."

The paramedic sighed again. "It could be a heart attack. Do you have any chest pain, sir?"

House doesn't respond as another wave of pain hits him.

"House?" Wilson said, concerned.

House wincesd, face contorting into a grimace.

"House…" Wilson repeated, touching his back gently. "Are you OK? Where does it hurt?"

"My leg...dummy…" House managed.

"It's not your chest? No pressure?"

"I'm not having a heart attack…"

"Okay…" Wilson sighed. He'd have to wait for the EKG results. House had always been very healthy though; running to work every day, playing tennis or field hockey on the weekends…

Wilson snapped out of his trance as the ambulance pulled up at the hospital.

2

The paramedics lifted House onto a stretcher in the ER. Nurses and doctors swarmed around him, checking vitals and hooking up IVs. Wilson stood with Cuddy and Stacey, whom had met the pair at the hospital. House seemed claustrophobic with everyone around him, but he didn't say anything for once.

Stacey broke through the wall of medical personnel and touched House's arm.

"Greg?"

She was the only one that called him that, and the only one he'd tolerate it from. His eyes were closed and his face was twisted. He found Stacey's fingers and squeezed them. He must have squeezed a little too hard, because she winced. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her.

"Go...back to work...I'm fine…"

"No, I'm staying. You'll be fine."

"That's exactly why...you need to go back to work…"

A nurse interrupted. "I'm sorry, we need to get him up to EKG now."

Stacey stepped back and let the nurse roll the stretcher to telemetry.


	2. Chapter 2

3

"Well, it doesn't seem to be a heart attack."

House was lying in a hospital bed, eyes drooping like he wanted to sleep but couldn't for some reason. Stacey was holding his hand. She looked gravely concerned, as many non-doctors do when faced with a loved one in the hospital.

Without opening his eyes, House muttered "Told you so…"

The doctor ignored him. "It could be a DVT, or a pulled muscle, or possibly just psychosomatic."

"Psychosomatic's a cop-out…" House murmured.

Again, the doctor ignored him. "I'd like to do a CT scan, but the wait for the machine is a little long so I'm going to schedule it for tomorrow."

Stacey and Wilson both nodded.

Suddenly, House arched up in the bed and moaned horribly. Stacey squeezed his hand.

"Greg…? Sweetheart are you OK?"

He squeezed her hand back and shifted in the bed, nodding.

"Could you get him something for the pain?" Wilson asked the doctor.

"Well, I am concerned he may be drug-seeking. Why don't we wait a few hours and see if the pain subsides."

Wilson nodded reluctantly.

Stacey went to get coffee and Cuddy left to get some work done, and Wilson was left with House.

House, who seemed to be getting worse by the minute. By the time Stacey came back, he was curled on one side, holding the offending leg and moaning. Wilson had tried to figure out what's wrong but House refused to let him do any kind of examination.

When Stacey arrived, she panicked. "Greg?!"

"He's OK," Wilson attempted. "It's just a little pain. He's getting a CT in the morning."

"He's not OK! He's hurting! Greg?"

House moaned in anguish.

"He needs a CT right now! Not in a day; right now!"

Wilson sighed. "I'll see what I can do." Wilson knew she was right. He'd never seen House like this.

"Wilson…?"

Wilson answered quickly, concerned. "Yeah? What do you need?"

From his curled position, House raised his head to look at Wilson. "I-it's a clot…"

"What's a clot?"

"I-in my leg...causing muscle death...need surgery…"

The older man looked afraid, wincing with the effort it took to raise his head.

"Can I take a look at your leg? If that's the case, your pedal pulses would be decreased and there would be a colouring change."

House looked like he was about to shake his head, but at the last minute he nodded reluctantly. Wilson moved the sheets and felt the bottom of the older man's foot. House stopped him before he got to his thigh.

"Don't...hurts too bad…"

"Your pedal pulses _are_ a little weak...We'll get a CT for you first thing in the morning. It'll be OK. Just breathe, OK? Do you want me to stay tonight?"

Reluctantly, House nodded. Wilson was surprised with his response as House never asked for help. _This must be really bad_, Wilson thought as he rubbed House's arm.

"OK. I'll stay."


	3. Chapter 3

4

"It looks like Dr. House might have a clot in his leg that's causing muscle death. He's going to need it removed. It's advanced; may have been there for a few days before he even showed any symptoms." the doctor turned to House. "Dr. House, you have some options here. We can either remove the clot on its own, remove some muscle surrounding the clot that's dead anyway, or, more radically, we can amputate."

House shot up. "No amputation! Bypass the clot!"

"House, that's risky...you'd be under for a lot longer and there may be residual pain...the muscle's dead anyway. You won't be able to use it," Wilson pleaded.

"No...there's a CHANCE I won't be able to use it. There's a CHANCE I'll be able to use it just fine."

"And there's a CHANCE you'll die on the table!"

Suddenly, House screamed and doubled over his leg.

"Greg?!" Stacey yelled.

He just kept screaming and writhing on the bed.

"Hey! We need some help in here!" Wilson yelled into the hallway.

Nurses swarmed the room. Three of them restrained House so he can't hurt himself, and one sedated him.

"He needs morphine!" Wilson pleaded.

A nurse reluctantly injected him with morphine; a low dose, not enough.

When the swarm dispersed, all that was left was House; bound at the ankles and wrists and sedated.

All Stacey and Wilson knew was that they would never forget the terrified look on his face when the nurses had restrained him. They would see that look a lot in the coming months.

5

The next morning, House woke up feeling worse than he ever had before. He couldn't move without pain shooting through his leg. He screamed. Wilson woke up, having dealt with his outbursts all night.

"You're OK... it's alright."

House felt weak. He never cried, but he had also never been in this much pain before. The tears rushed down his face, and sobs escaped him. Wilson rubbed his back, but he could barely feel it through the throbbing in his leg. He strained against the restraints. Wilson unbuckled them from his ankles and wrists.

"Put...me...out...now…" he managed.

"What do you mean?" Wilson asked.

"Coma...bypass the clot...let me ride out the worst of the pain...please...just make it stop…" He sweated with the effort it took to talk.

"House...I really don't think that's a good idea…you might not wake up…"

"I will...just need the pain to stop...please…"

House's breathing hitched, like he was having a hard time getting air out.

Wilson sighed. "I'll talk to someone about it OK? Just hang tight until I get back." He left the room, leaving House alone with the pain and his thoughts.

When he got back a half an hour later, though, House was much worse. He was stiff as a board and his face was contorted into a grimace. Every few minutes he let out a muffled scream.

Stacey, whom had come in with Wilson, ran to his bedside.

"Greg? What's wrong? Is it your leg?"

House nodded slightly.

"Can we up his meds any…?" Stacey asked.

Wilson went to the drip and turned the knob a few clicks. House visibly relaxed. The older man was still crying, though.

"House? I talked to Cuddy and some other doctors and they said the best course of action barring amputation would probably be to do the bypass and put you in a coma to ride out the postoperative pain. Does that sound OK?"

"Yeah...sounds great...owwww…"

Stacey held his hand. "James says we can do the surgery later today, OK? So I'm gonna say bye now because I have to get back to work, OK? I'll be there when you wake up."

House nodded, falling asleep from the raised morphine level


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for my first review and favorite! I really didn't know if a single soul would see this since it's a big site and the show has been over for so long. As always, suggestions, criticism, reviews, and favorites are appreciated! This story is finished but not everything has been posted and I'm already working on a sequel. I will be posting this story daily! **

6

"His pain levels were off the charts...no, I don't know why they didn't...they thought he was drug-seeking…"

Stacey was on the phone with one of her lawyer friends and Wilson was sitting reading a medical journal. House was intubated, sedated, and hooked up to all kinds of tubes and wires. He looked like many of Wilson's patients when they were close to the end. _He's not going to die though. He's going to have the surgery and everything's going to be fine, _Wilson thought.

Nurses rotated in and out, changing out IVs and checking monitors. They were concerned about his urine output and color. Muscle degeneration had caused his kidneys to work in overtime, and his urine was tea-colored. Of course, this worried Wilson, but he knew the surgery was imminent and it would all clear up in no time. At least, that's what he was trying to tell himself.

Stacey was in a rage. How could the doctors treat House this way? He had never taken drugs aside from sometimes getting drunk. They just assumed that because he was in pain he was trying to get high. Malpractice. Malpractice everywhere.

They spent the time like this, rotating in and out of the room for food or coffee or work. Wilson had taken the day off to be with House, but Stacey had an important case going to trial in a week, so she was unable to do the same.

The surgery was scheduled for five, but at four, House's heart rate skyrocketed. He had to be shocked to get his rhythm back to regular.

"It's the stress that all this pain has put on his body," the doctor surmised.

_No shit, _Wilson thought, but he restrained himself from saying anything.

"Unfortunately, the tachycardia concerns me regarding the surgery. He won't be able to be under long enough, and we may have to postpone. This could mean more muscle death and less functional outcome."

"Do we have any other options…?" Stacey asked.

"Well, as his medical proxy, you're entitled to change the surgery if you see fit in his condition. I don't feel comfortable waking him up at this time due to the stress on his heart. We can change to amputation, which wouldn't take as long as bypassing the clot. If we wait another day to do the bypass, he could lose complete function."

"What about removal of the dead muscle and clot?" Wilson asked.

"That's what I was getting to. That may be the best option considering Dr. House would prefer to retain his leg. It's also the best functional outcome and it can be performed today."

"Okay...well let's do that then…" Stacey said.

"Is that what he would want?" Wilson asked.

"It doesn't seem like we have another choice, James."

Wilson nodded hesitantly. He turned to the doctor. "Okay, let's do that…"

The doctor nodded, and said to Stacey, "I'll have some papers for you to sign."

Stacey nodded, being used to paperwork. She brushed House's hair out of his face and kissed his cheek, leaving with the doctor.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who has read this! This is a long chapter and we are about halfway through the story so enjoy!**

**ViolettBlack: I miss the show very much! Thank you so much for your review; I happy-screamed when I saw it. I believe that Wilson would have been there for his friend when he was in the hospital because he is a mother hen by nature. In my AU, House did not yet know Cuddy well and she was not very involved in the decision but she was minimally involved. This will become clear in the sequel I am working on! **

7

After the surgery, Wilson was left with House alone while Stacey took a conference call. His friend looked so old and...just not himself. His cheeks were sunken and pale from not eating enough, and his beard had grown out a little due to not shaving. The doctor had said he may be asleep for awhile. House's leg rested on a cushion designed for elevation, and it was heavily bandaged. A drain snaked out of an opening in the bandages. Wilson could tell they should be changed as soon as possible, but he wanted to let his friend sleep. Wilson could tell he needed it from the bags under his eyes.

He twiddled his thumbs, read a magazine, filled out some papers, watched TV, until finally he heard his friend start to stir.

"Hey…" He went over to the bed and rubbed his friend's hand as a way of letting him know he was next to him. He adjusted the cannula attached to the man's nose. The doctor had said House's sats hadn't been great during the surgery, and that he had almost crashed. Wilson couldn't imagine what may have happened if Stacey had elected to move the surgery another day.

House moaned and opened his eyes a slit, then closed them as if the light was too much for him. Wilson drew the blinds so as to make it more comfortable. Should he call Stacey? She's said she would be there when House woke up. He poked his head into the hall to see that Stacey had relocated somewhere else. He didn't want to interrupt her call, so he waited.

"Hey...Greg?" He said, as Stacey would.

House moaned again in response. He opened his eyes a little more.

"''Immy…"

"Hey...you're awake. How do you feel?"

House squeezed his hand lightly, and Wilson squeezed back. "Stacey…" he inquired, slurring in his drugged state.

"She's on a call. I'm sure she'll be here soon.

"Water…" House groaned. Wilson obliged by pouring water from the hospital pitcher into a dusty rose cup and helping House drink it.

"How do you feel?"

"Owwwwwwww…"

Wilson winced sympathetically. "Sorry...can I do something?"

House shook his head almost imperceptibly, and shifted as if attempting to rise from the bed. His leg was jostled a little in the process. House drew in a breath, and scrunched up his face like a baby about to wail.

"It's OK...don't move…"

He tried to move again anyway, and let out a low groan of pain, tears springing to his eyes.

"Let's stop that, OK? You just had surgery. It's gonna hurt if you try to move."

"Surgry…" House said, attempting to process.

"Yeah. On your leg. We couldn't wait because of your heart."

House, still trying to move, looked at Wilson in dazed confusion. He grabbed the sides of the bed rails and attempted to elevate himself in order to get out of bed. Wilson placed a hand on his arm to stop him. "House, you can't get up. You just had major surgery on your leg, understand?"

House shook his head.

"No, you don't understand?"

House shook his head again, still trying to get out of bed. He jostled his leg harder, trying to move it to stand. He let out a sob of pain.

"House, you can't move OK? You can't get up. It's gonna hurt more if you try that. Please just sit still or I'm gonna have to get a nurse."

House didn't listen, or maybe didn't hear. He struggled against Wilson's grip, trying to support his body on the bed rail. Suddenly he let out a high-pitched scream of pain the likes of which Wilson had only heard from children. He had moved his leg off the cushion and bumped it lightly against the railing. He screamed again, trying to get up.

"House! You can't get up! Are you OK?"

House kept screaming that same high-pitched scream. He was holding the bedrail so tightly his knuckles started to lose color.

Wilson ran into the hall. "Nurse!"

A Nurse rushed into the room. "Mr. House...you can't get up…"

Wilson neglected to mention that he was Dr., not Mr. House. It wasn't important right now. The nurse upped his morphine and gently lifted House's leg back onto the cushion. "You need to keep this elevated, Mr. House. Don't move."

House grabbed Wilson's arm tightly, sobbing. At least he had stopped screaming, but he was still in a lot of pain.

"You're OK...it's OK...breathe...deep breaths…" House's breaths were hitching, hyperventilating. Slowly, they returned to normal.

"I'm going to need to change the bandage, OK? Sit really still."

"Can't you give him something stronger for the pain…? Please?" Wilson pleaded with the nurse.

"I can give him a shot of Demerol. Hold on." The nurse left and came back with a vial, which she expertly pushed into House's IV. House relaxed a little, and closed his eyes again, still gripping Wilson's hand. Wilson squeezed it reassuringly as the nurse gently changed the bandage and cleaned the surgical site. Wilson gasped. They had taken out almost his whole quad. He guessed there had been more dead muscle than anyone thought. _House is not going to be happy about this…_

House wasn't happy right now either. He squirmed as the nurse changed the bandage. Wilson wasn't sure if it was due to pain or general orneriness and dislike of nurses.

"Sh…" Wilson said, just in case it was the former. The nurse left after paging the doctor.


	6. Chapter 6

8

Stacey scurried into the room as soon as her call ended. "Sorry, it ran long...how is he?"

"Woke up briefly. He wasn't really lucid, but he was asking about you."

Stacey gingerly approached the bed. "Greg…? How're you doing…?"

House moaned at the sound of Stacey's voice, and opened his eyes a little. His vision was tunneled and swimming.

"Oh...don't cry...it's OK…what's wrong?"

"He's not really very comfortable right now. He was trying to get out of bed I think and he bumped the site a little."

Stacey held his hand and whispered comfortingly into his ear. Wilson watched, feeling a little out of place. He fiddled with the morphine drip, turning it up a little so House could talk to Stacey without crying. He would be so embarrassed if he knew he was crying so much in front of people. Wilson didn't think he had ever seen his friend cry before these past few days.

House opened his eyes almost all the way now, look at Stacey lazily. "Stacey…" he slurred.

"I'm here. How's your leg?"

"Ow…"

House made another attempt to lurch up. Thankfully, this time he didn't displace his leg too much.

"House...you have to stop that. I don't want to restrain you, OK?" Wilson said.

Stacey glared at Wilson and then turned back to her boyfriend. "You're gonna be fine. We had to move up the surgery so your heart wouldn't get worse." She placed a hand on his calf and lovingly rubbed up and down.

House moaned in pain again. "Hurs…"

"Hm?" Stacey enquired.

"He said it hurts…" Wilson translated. "He just got a booster of Demerol a few minutes ago. I don't know what else to do."

House started crying again. Some of Wilson's patients reacted to anesthesia this way, but somehow Wilson didn't think this was related. House's chest was heaving as he tried to stop crying.

Wilson pressed the call button. A nurse entered the room a few minutes later. Wilson's heart sank when he saw it was the same nurse that changed his bandage.

"Sorry to bother you...he's just still in a lot of pain...is there _anything _you can give him?"

"Well, he already had Demerol...I don't know what to tell you…"

Wilson nodded reluctantly and let the nurse leave.

9

The next morning, House was more lucid. Wilson could even get him to eat a few bites of hospital jello. He seemed to have forgotten the the day before. He also didn't seem to know that the surgery he requested hadn't been done. But he was himself and for now that was all Wilson cared about. This lucid, blissfully unaware state continued until it was time to change his bandages again.

Wilson held his breath as House looked down at his leg.

House looked up at Wilson. "What happened."

"I'm sorry. We had to take some of the muscle. We wanted to bypass the clot but your heart couldn't take that long of a surgery…"

House didn't take his eyes off his leg, wincing sharply as the nurse cleaned it. "Get out."

"What?"

"I said GET OUT!"

Wilson reluctantly left, leaving House alone with the nurse. He tried to come back later, but House glared at him from the doorway, so he didn't enter the room.

Later, Stacey attempted the same thing.

"Get. Out."

"Greg, I—"

"I SAID GO!" House yelled as he threw a cup in her direction, more out of anger than malice.

After everyone left, House carefully unwrapped the bandages, wincing and tearing up as he did. It hurt. It hurt like hell. House stared at his mangled limb. He told them he didn't want this. He told them he wanted the bypass. His heart couldn't have been that bad if he's sitting here without a central line.

"Goddamnit!"

He pressed the call button and waited for a nurse. "I need to speak to my doctor."

The nurse nodded reluctantly, knowing there was no use arguing with House. The doctor came in.

"Dr. House! You're awake! That's great. I'm Dr. Pendleton. I did your surgery. How are you feeling?"

"Like shit. You did a hack job. Why the hell would you go against my orders?!"

"Dr. House, there was nothing else we could do…"

"My leg is fucking half gone!"

"I know. There was a lot more muscle damage than we anticipated. I'm sorry. The good thing is you should regain function."

"How much."

"What?" The doctor asked, confused.

"How much function." House was shaking with anger.

"Well, best case would be around 95%, but around 80% is more likely."

House smashed his fist into the table beside him, knocking over a lamp. "Fuck you. You had no right."

"Dr. House, the circumstances were severe and I decided in conjunction with your proxy that this was the best decision."

"Fuck you...fuck…" House started crying, mostly from pain but a little bit from sadness and frustration, but he wouldn't admit that. His muscle was spasming. He screamed, squeezing his eyes shut. The beeping of the monitor intensified. Pain overtook him, and he was unable to think of anything else.

"Dr. House? Dr. House, stay with us…"

He felt pressure on his chest, then darkness.


	7. Chapter 7

10

"His tolerance to the morphine seems to be decreasing. He's in a lot of pain. Are you sure you want to see him like this?" The doctor asked.

Stacey and Wilson nodded. "You go first," Wilson offered.

Stacey stepped into the room and went to his bedside. He was barely conscious, but his eyes were moving back and forth repeatedly, like he didn't know where he was.

"Greg…?" Stacey attempted. She squeezed his hand. He crushed hers, and she tried not to cry out.

House was crying. He couldn't stop. The pain was so bad he couldn't breathe; couldn't think of anything but how bad it hurt. His incision felt like it was on fire, and for a moment he wished his leg _had_ been cut off. But he squelched that thought, and replaced it with the thought that he wished someone would shoot him, like a horse with a broken leg.

Eventually, Stacey couldn't take looking at him like that anymore, so she left and Wilson came in. He held House's hand. "House?"

House didn't respond. His anger at Wilson had washed away and been replaced with waves of pain. A whole ocean, even.

"House, I know it hurts. I'm really sorry. Just...maybe talking will help?"

House couldn't talk though. Every time he opened his mouth all that came out were these horrible, animal sounds.

Wilson couldn't bear to see his friend this way, but he stayed because he knew House needed him.

The next few days were like that. Wilson could barely watch. Apparently Stacey couldn't watch at all, because she didn't visit again for awhile after that.

11

After three days of excruciating pain, there was a knock on the door.

"Dr. House?"

House looked up, moaning. The pain has plateaued some due to a high dose of morphine given earlier that day.

The man sat in the chair pulled up next to his bed. "I'm Dr. Lake. I'm your physical therapist and you're scheduled to start today."

House squeezed his eyes shut. "Can it...wait…."

"I'm sorry, no. It would probably be a good idea to start as soon as possible. Should I call your friend?"

House wanted to say no; that he didn't need anyone to hold his hand, but he couldn't. He needed his friend, whether he liked it or not. He nodded. Dr. Lake paged Wilson, who came almost immediately. He must have been staying close by.

"Hey House...how are you feeling?"

House shook his head. "Can't…"

"You can't what?"

"PT…"

"It's OK."

"Dr. House can you tell me how your pain is on a scale from one to ten?" The physical therapist asked.

"S-seven…"

"Okay...and that pain is localised in your leg?"

House nodded, closing his eyes.

"Would you mind me taking a look at your incision?"

House shook his head. "Don't…"

"House…" Wilson said warningly.

House whimpered involuntarily. "Kay...careful…"

"I'll be as gentle as possible, I promise."

Dr. Lakes started gently unwrapping the heavy bandages cushioning the doctor's leg. House winced before he could even stop unwrapping his leg. He reached for Wilson's hand. Wilson didn't seem to know what he wanted.

"H-hand...now…"

Wilson held out his hand and House squeezed it hard. Dr. Lakes gently felt the incision, examining the dent the missing muscle left. House tensed visibly and screamed into his fist. He shook his head as if to tell the doctor to stop.

"Could you give him a break for a minute?" Wilson asked. Lake obliged. House was breathing hard, eyes darting back and forth, obviously in pain. He relaxed a little after a moment.

"So, it hurt when I touched your leg? Was it the pressure that hurt or just the touching?"

"B-both…"

Lake nodded. "Well, I do have to check the rest. OK?"

House nodded reluctantly, knowing he couldn't avoid it. Lake continued to examine House's leg. House crushed Wilson's hand and let out muffled screams into his fist. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Lake finished the examination. House went limp against the bed, exhausted.

"So, what I'm seeing here is that your muscles are slightly atrophied due to the surgery and being unable to get up. So what I would like to do is get to stretching your leg while in bed to strengthen it. That won't start until your pain goes down though. I'm going to prescribe you Demerol, 50 mg a day, and we can go higher if needed. OK?"

House nodded, eyes still closed.

"Okay then, I'll leave you to rest. It was nice to meet you."

House didn't answer, already drifting into a fitful, pain-filled sleep.

"I can fix his bandages. You can go on to your next patient." Wilson suggested. Lake agreed and left.

Wilson gently rewrapped the bandages around House's leg. House screamed again, neglecting to muffle it with his fist.

"It's OK...just rest please…"

"H-hurts...can't...h-hurts…"

"I know it hurts. It'll be OK. The Demerol should help, OK?"

"I-it won't...morphine didn't...nothing does...you don't g-get it…"

"I know. I really think it will help though. Just try to breathe through it. I'm done with the bandages. Just try to sleep now." Wilson got up to leave, but House grabbed out to him.

"D-Don't...leave…"

"Okay. I won't. Please just try to sleep."

"S-Stacey's not c-coming back...is she…?"

"I'm sure she will," he lied. "Right now you really just need to sleep. Please."

Finally, the older man agreed, and slipped into sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: This is the last chapter! Thanks to all who have reviewed and read this story! I will be coming out with a sequel to this shortly which focuses on House's recovery at home with Wilson. Enjoy the last chapter!**

12

Wilson, sitting next to House's bed, holding his hand, finally had to come to terms with the fact that things would never be the same again. He didn't know if the pain would ever stop, if his friend would ever walk again. He didn't know if he would ever be a whole person again. He hadn't cracked a joke or said anything sarcastic in a week. Wilson wanted his friend back.

Stacey entered. She looked tired and upset.

"Is he awake?"

Wilson shook his head and put a finger to his lips. Stacey nodded.

"I...can't do this…" Stacey said, her lip quivering.

"Can't do what?"

Stacey gestured at the man in the hospital bed. "This isn't what I bargained for...I haven't loved him for awhile now…"

Wilson glared. "You have to stay. It'll break him if you leave."

"I-I'm Sorry...I can't. Will you please tell him goodbye from me?"

"No! You say it to his face!"

Stacey skittered away without saying a word. Wilson didn't want to think about what his friend would wake up to. Or what his life would be like when he emerged from the haze of drugs and pain he was currently swimming in.

He was all his friend had now. He wasn't much, but he would try his best.


End file.
